Physical Therapy
by Gen-chan
Summary: Bad memories don't just disappear, and when Yohji-kun can't stop remembering, he needs something (or someone) to help him forget. Rating for language, some lemon content later (rating will change accordingly) R&R please.


Hmm, I've never written a fic based on anything but Sailor Moon, so this is a little weird to me, but I love Weiss Kreuz and I love Yohji-kun, and I've always thought there was something more behind his womanizing. This will be a short fic of probably 2 or 3 chapters, and will have some lemon-ish content later on, (cuz dammit for once I wanna see Yohji with a woman!) and once I add that the rating will have to be changed, so all of my younger readers be forewarned. But for now, read on and enjoy!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was raining.  
  
Again.  
  
The raindrops pattered against the windowpane, blurring the world beyond and turning it a somber shade of gray to match the clouds above. Yohji sat half-hidden in shadow, the smoking remains of his cigarette held limply between the first two fingers of his right hand, his eyes staring out the window, unseeing. Half-consciously he brought the cigarette to his mouth and took a long slow drag, the end glowing red as he inhaled, then blew out a long, steady stream of smoke just a few shades lighter than the world outside. He ground out the end on the sole of his shoe, then dropped the butt in the half-full glass of liquor on the table beside him. Through all of this his eyes remained glued on the window, as if he were seeing images in the waterfall of rain that was flowing on the other side of the glass. So lost was he in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the door open as the others returned from their last mission, blood-spattered and weary.  
  
Back so soon, boys?  
  
Omi and Ken spoke in subdued tones while the silent (as usual) Aya closed the door behind them and hung his long coat in the closet, his swordbelt and katana now readily visible. These too he removed, but did not put away; the blade would need to be cleaned. He turned now to look into the dimly lit room beyond in which Yohji sat brooding, his back turned to them. Aya's eyes rested upon Yohji's half-hidden form, but he said nothing. In a moment Omi and Ken came up beside him, following his gaze, and Ken snorted.  
  
"Once again, we've been out busting our asses, and he's just sitting around and moping." He ground his teeth in frustration and furrowed his brow slightly. "Somebody remind me why we put up with this…."  
  
If you didn't, you'd have to kick me out and kill me, and you haven't got the balls to do it.  
  
Omi looked torn between his desire to keep Ken from strangling Yohji and his own bitterness at Yohji's inactivity in the group. "Don't start something, Ken-kun," he begged. "You know it won't do any good." Ken just looked down with half-closed, angry eyes and began unfastening his claws from his knuckles. Omi took a few steps into the room and mustered a smile.  
  
"Are you alright Yohji-kun?" he asked, but got no response. "You've been acting strangely lately…..you haven't come on a mission with us in days."  
  
"Yeah, you know, we could have used your help back there," Ken added, his voice raised and angry-sounding. "These guys don't get any easier to kill when we're missing a member." He glared at the back of Yohji's head, who still said nothing. "Omi-kun nearly had his hand taken off by that bastard's bodyguards tonight, and the blood on our clothes isn't all theirs. But, I doubt you care. You don't care about anything but yourself."  
  
You're damn right. Caring about others is what made me like this in the first place.  
  
"Ken-kun, please…" Omi pleaded, looking at him over his shoulder.  
  
"Why? It isn't as if he makes anything easy for us. So why should I make it easy for him to slack off while we're out getting the crap beat out of us? We won tonight, but maybe next time we won't. And if I die because of him I swear to god I'll rip his throat out myself!"  
  
Now that's something I'd like to see. Living-dead Ken-kun. I hate to break the news to you, but you aren't immortal. Neither am I.  
  
Silence settled on the four men in the room, the eyes of Omi, Ken, and Aya glued on the unrelenting Yohji. Suddenly Ken clenched his fists, and threw his gloves on the floor with a roar of anger and frustration. Omi's eyes widened as he stared at his friend in surprise; Aya only glanced in is direction. Ken stood breathing heavily his head down and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.  
  
"Fuck you Yohji….." he said heatedly, then whirled around and stalked out of the room, leaving his gloves lying crumpled on the floor behind him.  
  
"Ken-kun, wait!" Omi cried, scooping up the gloves and running after him, down the stairs to their hideout.  
  
Now only Aya was left in the room with Yohji, and as usual he wasn't saying anything. When the silence continued for another minute or so, Yohji half- turned his head and looked at Aya out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Do you have something to say to me, Aya?" he asked, his voice low and his tone questioning. A moment later, Aya answered:  
  
"No."  
  
With that, he turned on his heel and followed in Ken and Omi's footsteps, shutting the door to the stairway with a resounding click. Yohji turned back to the window and leaned his chair back against the wall, picking up the slightly-crushed pack of cigarettes that lay on the table and pulling out another one. He holding it loosely between his lips, he slipped his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on, holding the dancing flame to the end of the cigarette and inhaling briefly. When the tip glowed red he let the flame die and dropped the lighter to the floor beside his chair, leaning his head back against the wall behind him and taking a long, slow drag. The smoke burned the back of his throat and filled his lungs, giving him the delicious light-headed feeling he craved and just couldn't seem to get from alcohol. He exhaled and closed his eyes, trying to forget…it had been two years…why did it still do this to him after all this time?  
  
He opened his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette, contemplating the glowing end as he exhaled slowly. The others knew what had happened, just as he knew all of their broken, painful pasts. It was what made them a team, there were no secrets. But Yohji had a secret, one he refused to admit to his partners, because it made him weak. And in this business, weakness was an unwelcome liability.  
  
Yes, they knew what had happened before he joined Weiss, but they didn't know just how much it still affected him. They didn't know that every time he was alone, he thought of her...that every time he saw another woman dead at the hands of their enemies, he saw her face and her blood running into the street…that half of his dreams were still about her. He'd been with dozens of girls since he lost her, but there were never any true feelings involved. No one would ever make him the feel the way she had…he had loved her, and as much as he hated to admit it to others, he couldn't deny it to himself. He'd committed himself to fighting the men who abused and disrespected women ever since her death at the hands of another man, and he would generally be the first to volunteer to go on a mission against such men. But there were days, like today, where he just couldn't do it. Today he had just needed to be alone with his thoughts, he had needed the time to brood as he watched the rain…  
  
Yohji found himself sinking deeper and deeper into a depression that he knew was only getting more and more difficult to pull himself out of. With his cigarette burning away as he held it between his fingers, he righted the chair once more and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He covered his face with his hands and tried to drive the thoughts of her out of his mind, the smoke from his cigarette curling and rising over his head to disappear into the air. He sat silently like that for a long moment, with nothing but the patter of the rain against the glass to accompany the sound of his own breathing. Finally he looked up again, his hands still covering his face as he peeked between his fingers at the rain outside the window. With a deep sigh he rose from his chair picked something up from the table: a small black book. Opening it, several slips of paper fell out, upon which were several girls' names and phone numbers. As they drifted to the floor, one caught his eye. He caught it before it hit the ground and turned it over to see the words written there.  
  
Yohji,  
  
Call me anytime…I'll be waiting ^_^  
  
Kaori XOXOXO  
  
The phone number was written on the back of the paper. Yohji held it in his hand, staring at it for a moment, thinking. Then, having made his decision, her walked to the telephone and dialed, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear and walking to stand in front of the window as it rang once, twice, three times…  
  
"Hai?" a soft female voice on the other end.  
  
"Are you busy tonight?" Yohji asked in a low, husky voice. The woman on the other end laughed slightly.  
  
"Yohji-kun…" she said, her voice sounding both amused and flirtatious. "Not if you would like me to be available…"  
  
"I would very much like that…" Yohji said in answer to her subtle invitation. "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes."  
  
"I'll be waiting…" the woman said softly, and Yohji hung up the phone. He looked out the window a minute more, again lost in thought.  
  
After all, the best way to forget about one woman is to be with another… 


End file.
